


Too Long Ago

by Simply8Steps



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, One small mention of alcholism (implied), Post-Daybreak, SO, Telling Love Stories is Hard and Sad in BSG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simply8Steps/pseuds/Simply8Steps
Summary: We live until those memories are gone from us - each day becoming new.





	Too Long Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ originally on 12/28/2009 as a AR Secret Santa for mary_fan, who requested a fanfic based in late 4.5 dealing with a sort of "lost moment" between Adama and Roslin where they could get to know each other better.

Too long ago.

That is how stories are sometimes told – without a distinct length of time but not “once upon a time” nor “long, long ago” either. This is certain, even though hazy.

Too long ago is when memory is not always cemented on physical truths and instead leaps into the realm of “maybes”, “we think”, and leaves the weave of events for the ties of emotions. The instant of change when all is felt even if thought has ceased to function. However, the length of time has stretched far enough for it to be too long. A person can feel the stretch as if the heart has pulled too far out of its home.

 

* * *

 

“You went for a walk in the fountain? The one at the center of Government Park – on Caprica?”

“Don’t laugh! I… wasn’t thinking straight.”

His left hand smoothes down laugh lines that crinkle around eyes dimmed with sadness. “No, I’d imagine not.”

The music took its opportunity in the conversation’s pause to rise and wash over them. It trailed their steps lingering uncertainly on his quarters’ floor. Their last dance seemed so long ago, and this is their first in a new world. There is no sign of formality here – just his hand along her tiny waist trying not to signal his brain on her weight loss. The trembling that was developing in her hands masked by his own hands taking hold firmly – even if they trembled, then they would tremble together.

“When I first heard about my mother and sister, I just wanted to run. Away from the house, away from the city – especially from my father. I planned it so many times. I would lock myself in my room and sit staring at the window. I could picture it: climbing out the window, landing with a small thump outside the window and running off down the street. I could imagine running far enough to the end of the world and then – then I would see them. Standing beautiful and alive, ready to hold me again.”

“The world would feel safe again – like coming home.”

“Yes, exactly like that.”

Laura turned away to lean into his shoulder with their feet still shuffling. Her headscarf brushed against a rough, unshaven cheek. In the quiet, he heard the sounds of her soft breaths, the thoughts she expelled and shared from moment to moment.

“I forgot my shoes when I went to run.”

The deadpan voice ripped a laugh from his belly upwards and her hand moved from his shoulder to his chest to feel that laughter traveling up – and out.

He loves this woman. So much.

 

* * *

 

Shattered and fragmented so many times: she caught him when he stumbled on a few steps – some days still blurred and dulled by escape to the bottom of the bottle. He held her when she danced and tripped too close to the edge. Together.

 

* * *

 

“Are you counting my toes?” She giggled as his fingers deliberately swiped more quickly up then down her arch to her ankles.

“I was trying to until someone distracted me – while wearing _my_ bathrobe. Didn’t even have the decency to distract me in her own clothing.”

“Bill, it isn’t that difficult to count to ten you know, and the last time I checked I still had ten toes.” She giggled – hitching a ride along the path of calloused fingertips tracing up her calves.

“… Or her skin.” He continued as if uninterrupted, explorations already at their peak – the curve of smooth skin, muscle, and tendon behind her knee. Fingers of their own mind trying to fathom the brown fabric in its way.

“And of course, the stolen military robe is quite _fluffy_.”

“I am afraid, Madame President, that your speech – as intriguing as it is – is interfering with a military mission.”

“Oh really, why don’t we take that mission – “ She tapered into rasping breaths as she fought off the latest of a series of coughing fits. His grip moved from leg to body – perhaps frailer than ever (mission aborted – all pilots prep for a gentle landing). Pulling her onto his lap, he grabbed the glass of water and placed it at her lips.

“Sorry Bill, looks like whatever that mission was – it’ll have to wait.” (Agreement from civilian government granted.)

“I’d rather liked my old assignment anyway. Where were we?”

“You mean, before you lost track counting to ten?”

“You are insufferable, _honey_.”

“Why, _honey_ , we were just into the scene where he discovers that she only faked her own death. Her gun is now pointed right here.” She placed her hand onto his forehead – the cool skin soothing an unnoticed ache.

“Hmm… I don’t think he’ll let go of the case that easily.”

“She never expected him to.”

 

* * *

 

Too soon, evenings spent reading quietly in his quarters seemed too far in the past to contemplate. Who knew that he would prefer back then to the right now – even if Cottle has guaranteed her privacy.

However, her smile was no different from what it has been. She has made her peace (and has done her best to help him make his), and she takes each moment as it comes. Far too late – even for them – they, who have grown used to making time out of absolutely nothing.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me about it – about him.”

There was no jealousy in his voice, nothing bitter or accusing – just a simple curiosity and maybe a heavy tinge of surprise. She turns to him, amused. “Sometimes, I think that we were nowhere as discreet as we should have been.”

He chuckles, “I just figured it out from the way you sometimes speak of him. Rather fondly, I think.”

“Well, yes, I was fond of him – even when we had our differences.”

“To be honest, I’m glad that you had your ‘differences’. Otherwise, I’d have to worry about your capabilities as President – with him being an idiot and all.”

“Bill, you just don’t like the man.”

“He was a moron.”

“Well, even if that were true, and I am _not_ saying that he was, or at least, he wasn’t always a moron. A little stubborn at times and unable to see past some of his own notions of the thing to be done – somewhat like someone else I know – but he was generally a good man who tried his best.”

“What about his family?”

“They were very good people.”

“Laura…”

“I… The situation had been easy to fall into but not as easy to get out of. He was a good friend at a time when I needed one.”

“I bet he was quite charming.”

“Yes, Bill, actually he was – you know the type. I met him at the point where he was at his most idealistic – full of new ideas and the energy to make them reality, but the process wears you down. He made me a believer, even if I didn’t believe in the process or the office – I believed in the man. Even when we were both worn down. Then, one day, I just grew so tired, even before I realized it.”

She looked tired now even as she talked of it.

“You know, I used to fly for men with less belief than that. I think you’ve earned your pilot wings.”  
  
She giggled. “In the realm of politics?”

“Yes. Well, give me a second.” She watched as he went, disappearing into what she knew to be Cottle’s office and returned with pencil, paper, and pin in hand. As he reclaimed his seat by her side, he took to steadily sketching what looked to be pilot’s wings onto it.

“Bill, are you _making_ me a pair of wings.”

“Well… yes, but it’s different.”

She smirked, his earnestness making the old man seem like a little boy with a new ‘project’ at hand, and though she would never admit to it, she felt like a little girl eagerly awaiting her surprise.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a slug.

“Bill, your shading needs work.”

 

* * *

 

Just as strength can be a fleeting concept, fragility can be just as fleeting.

It is hard to imagine a time when they as humanity’s leaders weren’t decidedly strong, and yet, unbelievably weak. However, maybe that had been just the right mix to get them home – to find that one needle in the haystack, or that one rock among the stars of the universe.

 

* * *

 

“It’s hard to believe isn’t it?”

“Hmm…”

He turned to glance at his passenger – she was on the brink of unconsciousness. Or as Cottle had put it, “The young lady is frakkin’ lucky that her body seems as stubborn as the head on it and that she didn’t get caught by a frakking Centurion… running off from sickbay like that in the middle of the frakking fight. Gave Ishay a frakking heart attack when she finally noticed… She’s running on pure adrenaline right now, give her a few minutes, and she will pass right out. Right frakking timing too – considering that pretty bauble waiting out there for her…”

Bill could still hear him muttering all the way to the flight deck as the doctor grumbled worriedly over his patient, to both his and Laura’s amusement (and peril).

“Alright then, Husker, take care of her on the way down – make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid either.”

“Will do, Sherman.”

Laura giggled, “Sherman, the turtle.” Both Bill and Cottle stared at her. “What? It was one of my favorite comics when I was younger.” Both men could only watch helplessly as she collapsed further into a fit of giggles.

Shaking his head, Bill could only chuckle along at Cottle’s disgruntled smile (when did the doc start smiling?) as he lifted her, blanket and all, from the wheelchair into the raptor. Making sure she was secure, Bill turned back. “Sherman, I’ll be back after I get her settled down there. If you need anything for the rest of patients to be ferried off, just let Hoshi or Tigh-“

“Yes, yes,” Cottle waved him off “I’m no nugget. Plus, you’re not Admiral yet Bill. Don’t worry about anything. Just get our girl safely down there, and you’ll find your viper here waiting for you.”

“Thanks doc. See you down there. Safe journey.”

The doctor was already walking back down the corridor, muttering about “viper jocks” and “women”.

“Bill?”

Jolting out of his memories, he turned to the now wide awake Laura Roslin settled next to him.

“Hmm?”

“Bill, it’s… beautiful.”

He watched the blue and green orb reflected in her eyes, and could only breathe out, “Yes, yes it is.”

 

* * *

 

_For how long will this story be told? How long will it take for this lifetime to seem too long ago?_

_A voice on the hillside speaking a sunset to life._

 

 

_**Fin.** _


End file.
